


Not Your Antebellum Song

by sundropsin



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: M/M, Other, Three Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 23:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6880264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundropsin/pseuds/sundropsin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gon sits on the cliff and reflects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Your Antebellum Song

_Just in case the stars fall_

_and the earth is too late_

_catching them,_

_kiss me the way you do -_

_softly, selflessly, soundly._

_only after the sky shatters can I say:_

_now, let’s do it again._

☼

 

Day broke the humming quiet of the jungle. The crackle of night fire, star whispers, and frog songs faded, and a crescendo of clear notes and low thrums joined the rising sun. Hiding in clouds as white as their feathers, seahawks lazily circled high above their mirror images in the water, preening and waiting for the perfect opportunity to hunt the silver fish darting just below the surface. Behind them, the fishermen approached, dragging long nets through the water.

On the far side of the island, where a bare cliff jutted out trying to kiss the sky, the stars ran away, and copper eyes stared at the dance between the fishermen with their nets like billowing skirts and the diving birds who snapped fish in their castanet-like beaks.

From this far away, propped up on a cliff that held the world like Atlas, Gon could see everything. How the peachy clouds traced the sun’s bottom curve. How the silver fish in nets jumped like stars longing to return to the night. How a great blur many miles under the sea grew darker and darker until it became the sea itself. Here, the sun’s unfiltered heat hit him strongest, tracing the curve of his back and searing through the tight stretch of his white shirt, warming his heart.

This was home.

Three years ago, waking up to the smell of Leorio’s coffee brewing, the sound of Kurapika’s newspapers crinkling, and Killua’s sleeping face felt the same. Gon exhaled through a soft smile. He missed them. _Of course he missed them_ , but these days, he hardly thought about them until he _was_ thinking about them, and then he couldn’t stop thinking, which meant that he was almost _always_ thinking about them. Half-remembering. Half-wondering.

He worried about Kurapika, of course, and their search for the Phantom Spider. They danced webs across the world, leaving spindles of destruction and bodies, many tragic but none as personal as the murder of Kurapika’s family. Gon last heard from Leorio, who last heard from Kurapika who “Can’t even be damned to pick up his phone! I’ve left him _twelve_ messages now, and he just skips in -”, that they now recovered their clan’s Scarlet Eyes, which had been sold on the black market. All that was left was crushing the spider.

Gon had been hanging the clothes outside when Leorio called.

“Yeah, that’s right! The bastard’s gone and done it again - what’s he _thinking_?” A pause, then a promise. ”He’ll be okay.”

Gon knew he would, but he wanted Kurapika to be _more_ than just okay. He’d always known they weren’t done, but he thought he’d be by their side when the worst came, when they needed him. But after the Chimera Ants, after Pitou, after _Kite_ , after three years of explosive progress in his Nen training, he’d only hurt Kurapika.

Gon didn’t want that.

But, if he _could_ help, if he could give Kurapika some company or some peace - “They shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

From the other end of the line, “Yeah.”

Leorio, who left serial voicemails on Kurapika’s number, who always yelled at the phone when they _did_ pick up, worried too. He’d told Gon himself. If so many patients weren’t relying on him, if the hospital he worked at could find a better, more qualified, more handsome doctor, he’d be there by Kurapika’s side. And Leorio was great at what he did. Although he was based in the city, he traveled when his patients couldn’t. Not many highly acclaimed doctors did that, and not many would even think to do it free of charge.

Like Leorio with Kurapika, Gon rarely had any luck contacting Killua. He admitted it was a bit frustrating to Leorio once, then they moved on and talked about other old friends. But before they hung up and separated for another few weeks, Leorio said, “Just give him some time. He’s still your best friend.”

Killua and Alluka would be travelling the world together. A month ago, Alluka sent him pictures from high up in the mountains. Golden mist settled around them like a cloak, but their blue eyes, sharp and smiling, pierced through the fog and the less-than-quality phone camera. Gon toyed with the idea that if _maybe_ they ever visited, he could take them around Whale Island too! Killua had been here before, and he liked it. And Alluka, whose eyes always brightened at the thought of new explorations and adventures, would _definitely_ love it. Gon thought of the flowers they could put in Alluka’s hair, how she’d beam, and what Killua might look like when he smiled at her.

The last person Gon brought up this cliff was a tourist - fifteen, blue-eyed, and hair so light it almost looked like white stars danced around his head. But it wasn’t him.

When he spoke and laughed, he had none of Killua’s grace and spark. He wasn’t so fun to tease either. His hair might have looked close to starlight (under the sun, it was closer to a light gold), but the constellations refused him their service. But Killua, he could bend anyone and anything to his will if he wanted to.

Gon didn’t need to shuffle through his messy excuses of memories to know that Killua never wanted that. He wasn’t above shamelessly charming shopkeepers for free chocolate, but Killua didn’t want to use people like his brother Illumi did, violently and impassively, or even carelessly.

After all, Killua was the sun, and his presence had burned until Gon couldn’t see him, couldn’t remember him, but for a winning smile and the grumbling tones of a twelve year old boy calling him _“Idiot”._

“... Nothing’s changed,” Gon laughed.

 _Or maybe everything has_ , the sun winked back.

He didn’t know what Killua was like now, if he still played with metal coils when he was thinking, if he slept with two blankets or none, if he ever shared his chocolate with Alluka, what he thought about the Other Worlds out there. Did he like the places he and Alluka travelled to? Was Illumi still on their trail? Were they safe? Was he happy? Gon didn’t know these things. He couldn’t even talk about them with Killua! It was either remote mountain or isolated village wherever he and Alluka went, places no one would find them. Places where Gon couldn’t find him. And that was fine because Killua was still Killua, and they were still best friends.

(Still, it wouldn’t hurt for Killua to call him.)

On sunny days, when Gon didn’t have to bend his head over letters and figures, he helped tourists around the island. Camera phone in his hand, he’d snap the seahawks circling around trees as tall as the buildings in Yorknew City, the weekend market full of thrashing fish and fishermen, or the sun rising from the deep ocean. He took more photos than an island native needed to, and the tourists thought they understood why – that everyday, nature revealed a surprise. Where a lion walked out of the brush one day, a jackrabbit might come bounding through the next day, but never Killua and Alluka. A few days ago, the anniversary of when their first meeting passed like a cloud drifting across the sun. 

Ø  KILLUA !! I took some tourists round the island again today. [sun emoji]

Ø  [picture sent]

Ø  look how big this cub got!!

Ø  [picture sent]

Ø  [cloud emoji] [star emoji]

Ø  [picture sent]

Ø  [picture sent]

Ø  hey, let me know where you’re going next !!!

Ø  or … COME HERE !! Mito-san and everyone misses you, and Alluka would love it too. I mean it, Killua !!!

Gon sent texts peppered with strings of emojis to Killua most nights and often in between lessons when Mito-san’s back was turned. He sent stickers, emojis, summaries of his days, the joke he heard from the tourists or the supermarket miss, photo tours of Whale Island, but in three years, he never sent Killua a selfie.

He thought about it every month since they parted, and Mito-san thought it was a good idea, since they were both still growing, still changing. Gon grinned, angling the camera to his face and throwing up a peace sign, his smile lit as bright as the flickering kitchen lights.

After Gon finished putting the dishes away, he deleted the photo. The air dragged out of his mouth, reluctantly, like the sea waves moving away from shore. That night, Gon left his phone on the kitchen table. He walked up the stairs, hands empty and chest feeling something not quite emptiness but even more aching. He wiggled under his blankets, turning his back to the windowed moon.

It wasn’t selfish of him if he couldn’t see Killua either.

At the beginning, when their wounds were still sweet and their goodbye still sour, Killua read all of Gon’s texts, and sometimes, he replied. But after a few weeks, _read_ never appeared under Gon’s messages again.

Gon didn’t question it, but he didn’t stop texting Killua either. _Killua,_ Gon felt the name on his lips and the tips of his fingers, aching to reach out and hold Killua. He curled his fingers against the rising sun, knowing that it wasn’t too late, but that it wasn’t the same.

His hand fell to his side, and the sun glared back at Gon. He looked towards the sea. They weren’t twelve anymore. Years of experience and years apart changed things. Would he be taller than Killua now? Did Killua stop caring about him? Could he still call him his best friend? Gon had to because he’d never known anyone else like him.

Gon never saw a point counting in between the hours and years he would next see Killua. _Enjoy the journey_ , Ging had said, perched high on the tree when Gon finally found him, ten years later still looking the same. Dumpy hat, smile wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, sun freckles, and the heroic glint of adventure everyone saw in Gon too. If Ging had met Killua, he would have known that the journey wasn’t half as good without him.

The wind carried Ging’s words, turning them into air and promises that melted into the curve of the setting sky. White dusts of stars slowly descended, melting into the sunset. Ging looked ready to jump and spread his wings, fly into the sun, melt into the stars or sea, without another glance, looking forward to his next adventure and leaving Gon behind again.

Ging would always be chasing, and Killua was still running, but if Gon ever felt the need to, he knew he could find them. He’d be stronger too, no longer a burden or a bomb. He found Ging, didn’t he?

He picked himself up, breathing in the humid island air, his back to the cliff’s edge, and grinned.

By the time the sky’s warm blush faded into bright blues, the seahawks had returned to their nests, tucked in the branches of jungle trees, too high for human hands to disrupt and just low enough that storms only rustled feathers when the winds shook. Only dirt and pebbles, moved by free wind, kept the cliff company. Without Gon’s presence, the lonely cliff quietly continued waiting for stars it had no hope catching.

The sun led Gon’s shadow through the thick jungle and down the familiar slope. His bare feet, gritty with dirt and sand, were secure, weaving down the slope. Twigs and stones left impressions on his legs and arms. He briefly touched the trees he passed. Their different surfaces, smooth and rough, felt familiar and anchored Gon to the very present and very real reality of Mito-san’s coming anger when she found the state of Gon’s clothes after his night out in the jungle. She would lecture him again for being so careless with his clothes; he would promise to clean them after he showered; then she would huff and send him up to the bath because he wasn’t using his head again, and if he washed the clothes _after_ he showered, he’d have to shower again. This time in cold water.

Gon deftly leapt the last two feet down the slope, heels striking the packed line where soil met sand. Beyond the trees, the sea called. The watery sky left lingering touches between Gon’s toes, inhaling and exhaling a languorous sigh that afternoon. Salty foam left bubbles on the top flats of his tanned feet, hatched with scars and veins, elaborate patterns like the tabletop lace Great-Grandma draped over the kitchen table. As the waves dragged in and out, the dark sand shifted, revealing the marbled black and grey stones Gon collected. The shiny surfaces shyly winked at the sun and threatened to run and hide at the next wave’s pull. Moving like a seahawk after silver fish, Gon nabbed the stone, just as the tide inhaled. Saltwater seeped through his pocket, and he shivered.

When Gon went to the seashore, he remembered Killua and how he laughed, spraying water at a bent over Gon. He remembered Leorio’s words: _He’s still your best friend._

Still.

Gon felt still. He felt, in all those years, he had been waiting for something to hit him back, something that could make him question his strength and make him feel stronger for it, and it never came. He never came. And Gon knew he could try and keep trying, but it needed to be Killua who started it. Because Gon could text him and leave him messages and show him pictures, but it needed to be Killua who wanted to talk to Gon and be best friends again. Because three years ago, in the moment Gon had thrown his life away, put all his friends in danger, left Killua to deal with the aftermath and pick up his mess quietly and tiredly, Gon had also selfishly thrown Killua away.

_Did he ever apologize for that?_

High above his head, the sun sharpened its smile.

 

☼

 

_Mondays pass and seasons_

_change with a charged_

_love for cosmic lattes and_

_answers to muddy kneed questions._

_Can these eyes stare at the sun?_

_How cold is light when the sun leaves? Does_

_learning how to look at the light bring it_

_any closer? I never really knew until you spun_

_near, smiling at me with the sun in your eyes._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hello !! this is a something i wrote two-ish years ago and i've only made an ao3 account to post on now. this reflective chapter was meant to set up a larger story involving the phantom troupe and aliens, but i think i'm leaving it at just this. thank you so much for reading !!


End file.
